In Which Farilon Is a Dirty Old Man

December 23, 1202

"Oh! Your highness!" The young woman's cheeks flashed pink as she recovered from her spell of jumpiness--as if it were she who was surprised to see Farilon, in the private upper floor of his own house, not expecting to see any vaguely familiar-looking people who apparently knew him on sight coming out of Danthia's bedroom. "I wasn't sure you'd before I left. My mother sent me over to check up on my aunt, because she didn't want to deal with her herself--and who can blame her, really?--but got word that her sister was 'dreadfully ill' and felt obligated to at least inquire. By the way, it's only a somewhat bad-ish cold. I kind of thought that would be the case, what with Aunt Danthia's typical dramatics, and my mother probably thought the same, but nevertheless--"

"It... it's fine. You don't need to explain." Farilon rubbed at the back of his neck, probably just as red as she'd been at the sight of him. Danthia's niece, then? One of Riona's daughters, probably the eldest if he had a reasonable guess of her age. What was her name? He'd seen her before, certainly. The red curls, the blue Sadiel eyes...

Though, the womanly body must have been a more recent development. "Uh, it... it was nice of you to indulge her."

"You don't know my name, do you?"

"Uh..." He racked his brain again for the names of Riona's daughters--and barely managed to remember Riona's name. She had him there. "Well, if you're half Andronei and half Sadiel, I can probably narrow it down to... six choices?"

"You sound just like the Carvalli students back at the university--as if they're not just as bad with that." Still a university student. Dear Lord. Was he already old enough to be a dirty old man? "Anyway, it's Holladrin. For my paternal grandmother."

"Right. Your, uh, your grandfather's first wife."

"Are you all right?" Her pretty eyes narrowed, pouting lip to a puzzled frown. Such a dynamic face, from the few minutes he'd spent staring at it. Danthia, for the most part, had maybe two expressions. "Frankly, you're much more out of sorts than Aunt Danthia is--at least, by whatever low standard of sanity we can assign to her, at least."

"Uh, yes, I think so." But that arched red brow said he wasn't convincing. "I don't know. Maybe I've caught Danthia's cold? I hope my children don't get it."

His children! Good God. If Holladrin was still attending the university, then she wasn't much older than the twins. And yet--he was staring at her hair, how soft and full it was, and how long it had been since his fingers had been lost in a woman's curls. Er, that was to say, the curls on her head.

Though, come to think of it--

"Um... yes. Yes, I'm definitely coming down with something." He drew his fist to his mouth and forced out a cough. His blood had drawn to the same boil as it had back in his youth, that first time he'd noticed how Aydelle Ildaras's hips swayed in a pendulum motion when she walked away. That had resulted in a swat to the back of the head from his sister Camaline, then a flick of her violet eyes downward and warning that he needed a cold bath. "Uh, I don't want to be rude, but maybe you should... I mean, surely you don't need to catch anything so close to Christmas--"

"Yes, right. I was just about to leave anyway, before I ran into you." She paid him a hasty, likely indulgent smile, then took hold of her skirt for a quick curtsy. What the hell was wrong with him, longing to dive beneath it and let loose his tongue between her legs? "Feel better, your highness."

"Thank-- thank you." Damn, his face couldn't have been far from the color of her hair. "Uh... have a good day."

She hurried past him, no doubt eager to get away but too polite to run. Farilon forced himself not to turn around and watch her leave, lest she have a sway in her hips.

How long had it been? He'd have to get to a brothel soon. It hadn't occurred to him just how pent-up he was.

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